Kehl: Echoes in the Deep: Part Two

The icy shock of Puget Sound enveloped Kehl, a sudden, brutal baptism into his new reality. He plunged downwards, the world a chaotic blur of churning water and escaping air bubbles. The force of the impact ripped his glasses from his face, and he watched them spiral away, glinting in the dim, particulate-filled light before vanishing towards the seabed. For a moment, panic flared, a primal fear of the crushing dark. Then, instinct took over. His powerful new limbs, unbidden, found a rhythm, treading water with an ease that surprised him. His gills worked, drawing in the oxygen-rich water, a strange, cool sensation that was rapidly becoming familiar.
He took the shape of a star, limbs outstretched, and let himself drift calmly downward, the pressure mounting gently against his eardrums. The silence of the deep was profound, broken only by the faint thrum of his own powerful heartbeat. He landed softly on a sandy patch, his large, clawed feet sinking slightly. My glasses, he thought, a pang of his old self surfacing. He scanned the murky bottom, his vision surprisingly sharp even without them, though the world lacked its usual crisp definition. He spotted them, half-buried near a cluster of anemones. He retrieved them, the familiar wire frames cool against his blue skin, and settled them back onto his snout. The world snapped into clearer focus.
I didn’t expect this from my parents, he mused, the earlier adrenaline giving way to a dull ache of betrayal. Shouldn’t they care? Accept me as I am? Their son? The questions echoed in the vast emptiness around him, unanswered.
He stood there on the sandy bottom for a long minute, the cold water a strange comfort, washing away the lingering scent of his old life. Then, a low, powerful rumble emanated from his midsection. His massive, white belly, taut and round, swayed slightly with the internal tremor. Here we go again, he thought, a wry internal chuckle escaping him. Didn’t even get to Mom’s pastries. I’ll have to find food here, then. He gave his stomach a pat, the skin firm and elastic under his clawed hand. Haha, let’s see how much you can fit in this time, big guy. With a powerful flick of his tail, he pushed off the bottom and swam with the gentle current, a new, untethered predator in an ancient realm.
Suddenly, a voice, smooth and deep, resonated not in his ears, but directly within his mind, like an echo in a vast chamber. “You’re not bad, you know. Impressive exit. I thought you were just another weakling, all talk and trembling flesh.”
Kehl froze mid-stroke, his head snapping around, searching the murky water. “Who said that?” he projected mentally, his heart — or whatever passed for it now — thudding.
A low, amused chuckle filled his head. “Your new friend, comrade. Your better half. The… let’s call it the ‘Senior’ partner in this new venture. The one who unlocked the door, you might say. Ha ha.” The voice was confident, almost arrogant, with an undercurrent of something ancient and powerful. “I will help you with everything, always. Guide you.”
“And what do you want in return?” Kehl thought, suspicion coiling within him. As if on cue, he felt a strange disconnect, watching his own clawed hands move, seemingly of their own volition, to stroke the curve of his own belly, then trace the powerful swell of his pecs and biceps. The sensation was bizarre, a phantom touch directed by an unseen puppeteer. Nothing is ever that simple. Am I going crazy? Is this part of the serum’s side effects?
“Crazy? Oh, far from it, Kehl. You’re finally sane, ” the voice purred. “As for what I want… it’s simple. You must never go back to being human. Never dilute this perfection. I am the one who helped you achieve this, amplified your desires, helped you get what you always truly wanted, deep down.”
“Come on, ” Kehl thought back, a touch of his old sarcasm returning. “I wasn’t exactly planning a reunion tour.”
“Good boy…” Kehl Senior’s presence seemed to recede slightly, like a satisfied predator settling back into the shadows of his mind, leaving Kehl with a lingering sense of unease and a thousand new questions.
“So what’s going on there…?” Kehl muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. Oh yes, food. He pushed the unsettling internal conversation aside for the moment and swam on, his powerful tail propelling him effortlessly. Schools of silver fish, startled by his passage, darted past him in shimmering clouds. His hunger, now a driving, primal force, intensified. He watched them, his predatory instincts, newly awakened and honed by Kehl Senior’s subtle influence, taking over. It took a few clumsy attempts, a few near misses that sent his new internal companion into fits of mocking laughter, but soon he learned the devastating efficiency of his new form. He learned to open his jaw wider than he thought possible, to inhale, creating a vortex that drew in entire schools of fish, filling his expansive stomach until it was pleasantly, powerfully taut. The sensation of being utterly full, packed to the brim with energy, was a novel and deeply satisfying one.
The months blurred, marked by the rhythm of tides and the migration of prey. Kehl established a new shelter in a vast underwater cave, hidden behind a curtain of kelp. He’d dragged heavy, coral-encrusted rocks to form a crude but imposing throne, adorning it with iridescent shells and strange, deep-sea artifacts he’d discovered in his explorations. He usually slept on a large, surprisingly smooth slab of stone within the cave, often on his side or, uncomfortably, on his stomach, his thick, powerful tail always seeming to be in the way, a constant reminder of his altered anatomy. Many days, he’d sit on his throne, a solitary, blue-skinned king of this silent, twilight realm, his clawed hands resting on the curve of his impressive, muscle-cored belly, simply staring out into the vast, blue-green expanse, lost in thought. The image from his mirror back home — the confident, powerful shark-man — was now his reality, but it was a lonely one.
One day, a restless urge, a deep-seated longing for something more than cold water and silent fish, began to stir. “I can’t just sit here forever, ” he found himself thinking, the words echoing strangely in the silence of his cave. “As much as I… appreciate this freedom, this power… it’s not enough.”
He swam out of the cave, the decision made. With powerful thrusts of his tail, he began to ascend, his buoyant form rising like a sleek, blue torpedo towards the distant, shimmering surface. He broke through into the cool, crisp air, blinking against the sudden brightness. He swam to a secluded stretch of shore, his powerful limbs carrying him through the shallows until he could stand. Water streamed off his glossy blue hide. He wore only the tattered remains of what had once been his pajama bottoms, now functioning as makeshift swimming trunks, clinging to his muscular thighs. He looked down at his large, digitigrade feet, the black claws sharp against the wet sand. “And yet, what kind of freedom is this, really? Half-naked, barefoot… a monster to most.” He flexed his toes, the claws digging into the earth. “Still, ” he mused, a small, sharp-toothed grin touching his lips, “these feet are pretty impressive.”
He found a discarded, oversized hooded sweatshirt washed up among the driftwood — likely lost by a boater — and pulled it on. It was damp and smelled of brine, but it offered a modicum of concealment, though his tail and dorsal fin were still obvious, and his massive, rounded belly strained the fabric. He made his way, moving with a newfound stealth through the sparse woods bordering the coastline, towards familiar territory.
There it was. His house. His lab. Looking exactly as he’d left it, minus a shattered panoramic window. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him — nostalgia, anger, a strange sense of longing. “Right. No key card.”
“Ha!” Kehl Senior’s voice boomed in his head, startling him. “Child’s play, Kehl. Have you forgotten what you are?” Before Kehl could protest or even think, he felt his body coil, his powerful leg muscles bunching. With an explosive leap he hadn’t known he was capable of, he launched himself upwards, easily clearing two meters. His claws scraped against metal as he caught the edge of the second-floor balcony — his bedroom balcony. With a grunt, he hauled his considerable bulk over the railing, landing with a solid thud.
The sliding door was unlocked. He stepped inside. The room was just as he’d left it, though a fine layer of dust had settled on everything. And there, in the center, was his bed. His wonderfully soft, familiar, human-sized bed.
“Oh yes, ” he breathed, the words a reverent sigh. “My soft bed. I’ve missed you.” The sweatshirt came off, tossed carelessly aside. He didn’t even bother with the covers. He simply climbed onto the mattress, which groaned in protest but held, and collapsed. The sheer exhaustion, not just from the journey, but from months of solitary survival and internal conflict, hit him like a physical blow. His massive frame, with its powerful muscles and impressive, elastic belly, sank into the welcoming softness. He was asleep almost instantly, the faint scent of his old life a comforting, yet deeply unsettling, lullaby.